


Drinking and Driving

by Gothiiknight



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Dating Doyles!, Drunk Driving, F/M, canon queer drunk babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothiiknight/pseuds/Gothiiknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Doyle and Sadie Parker, on their first(ish) date. Also Frank's first real attempt at driving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arsenikitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenikitty/gifts).



> This work heavily references BB Issue #0. Also makes references to a past Donna/Sadie relationship, because yes.  
> Rated M solely for the last bit of the last chapter, and Sadie's wandering hands. Also poor Dave.

"There are in fact three reasons to get out of bed, Frank," the ex-exorcist persuaded himself firmly, staring up at the dingy ceiling of his apartment with a sort of lazy determination. (A peculiar quirk of personality rarely found in nature - for good reason.)

He pointed a finger quarrelsomely at the ceiling, imagining it, in fact, to be a bit less ceiling like and a bit more like a mirror. Or perhaps a particularly large and reflective body of alcohol The thought made him shift longingly under the large rag that masqueraded itself as his sheet. "Both the gin, good old friend gutrot, and a glass in which to drink the gin were foolishly left in a place that is decidedly _ not _ this one. And... "

Frank Doyle didn't finish the sentence with the amorphous, romantic, and entirely inappropriate appellations to a certain woman on which his thoughts quite perilously lingered. He'd probably imagined her. Hesitating, he started the burdensome process of actually hoisting himself out of bed.

The sleeve of his once-white and once smooth button down, still wet with ectoplasm and possibly whiskey, slipped down his arm as he moved. The bent silver nail that'd served as an almost cufflink since he'd sold the last pair had gone missing again, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn't stand up only to find it embedded in one of his softer parts. Or in fact any of his parts that were not his shirt. Smoothing his hands over the fabric as he went, he noticed no more than the usual amount of blood, and nodded once to himself, applauding his own silence.

Drunk, possibly suicidal, and thoroughly spiraling in a direction quite the opposite of up, as was his usual morning routine, but he still had his pride. Well. At least he did on Thursdays, before gin, and after waking up. He'd solve that soon enough...and he was almost certain it was a Thursday.

It'd been six days since the last one and those sort of things did tend to progress in a particular...his thoughts wandered as he did, over to his work table. Where the gin, a dead spider, some satisfyingly illegible notes, and a quite wrinkled and week old newspaper. So maybe he hadn't imagined her. Not all of her.

She was a picture in the society pages, next to some positively hackneyed picture of a twopenny occultist charging a great deal more pennies for something Frank seriously doubted was worth any pennies at all. He had no patience for the likes of Bobo unless they were buying him drinks. What fascinated him about her, other than her eyes, hair, the curl of her lips, the laugh he could remember emanating out of that divine throat, the curve of her fingers that somehow communicated wit, and the _way_ she smiled that even in black and white looked like a shot of the devil's own drink and a sunrise through the rosy end of a glass , through the goggles of several weeks worth of drinking; was that her eyes were dwelling on a certain member of the crowd the mostly ex-exorcist was quite definitively sure wasn't there. The impossible and imperious Sadie Parker. That saw ghosts. And yelled at them, when opportunity arose.

The Sadie Parker from the same sort of Money that paid for her outfit. Hell, her shoes probably cost more than he drank in a year. They'd been very nice shoes, though, on her.

Leaning down, stepping on the leg of the overturned chair beside him in order to underturn it back to the right of ways, he retrieved what might just be the only unbroken glass in his possession. He examined the brown glass, rubbing it clean with the unmarred spot on his sleeve, and amending his assessment. It was the only _ still _ _ functional _   glass in  his possession. But really, who counted a few chips and a crack as being broken anyways? Functional was more than good enough.

Tossing it recklessly on the table so it slid right up next to its old friend the Bottle,  he dropped himself into the  now righted chair, and poured his gin. Despite exhaustion, the fact that he still wasn't entirely certain both of his eyes were open, and his general lack of concern for his physical well being, he poured it with exquisite care. No splashing. Thirty bucks in one's pocket could only be stretched into so many drinks.

Especially-- Frank scowled.The napkin was still there, the one from the tiny place on 3rd with the bouncer that'd nearly thrown him out and the drinks that would've cost him his liver in a much more quickly than usual sort of way, if she'd let him pay for them. Especially since she was taking him out to dinner, wasn't she? He needed a suit. Or at least a new shirt. A slightly used shirt. A shirt that was not the one he was currently in. And shoes.

He felt his thirty dollars shrinking, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't break out into a panicked sweat at the though and feel the immediate need to search for cases to keep him deep in a satisfactory state of inebriation.

He drank half of his liquor in a gulp, pulling the napkin over with a sigh, treating it the way some men treated bibles or the morning paper, and reading it again with a sense of dread and relief mixed together more finely than most cocktails that were anywhere near his price range. There was his hasty scrawl. In black and on non-proverbial white, right next to a lipstick print that he still couldn't remember asking for. He was too busy remembering the way her eyes sparkled liked ice floating in absinthe.

_ Dinner. 6 on Thursday. Angelo's. Don't make the lady wait. _

And then on the very bottom edge, scrawled in a more looping, and far less sober, rendition of his handwriting - _ she smells like the best chaser to my drink. _ _ To all the drinks _ .

She had, hadn't she? The frown slowly faded as his spiral came to a crawl, then a stop, and he nursed his glass. A strange and foreign peace settled in him, like a drink that'd been stirred just the right amount. He hated nursing them normally, gulping was his preferred method of imbibing anything,  just ahead of swallowing vigorously, and downing with fevered enthusiasm.

But Sadie was very real. All of her. The most real thing he'd ever touched. He'd touched her hand. She'd said his name. He could still here her voice ordering those hellhounds to sit. He'd almost followed suit, too, it seemed the sensible thing to do after all. Listen to Sadie Parker. Drink lonely liquor. Common sense.

Actually real. And _ actually _ taking him to dinner.

He flushed a little at that thought, uncomfortable, ashamed, but gulping the rest of the gin solved that handily. No. Maybe not suicidal,  not today. In fact, absolutely not today. It was Thursday.

Frank had a suit to buy.


	2. Two

"He's _ darling _ , really more charming than any non-liquid has a right to be, even when he's upside down. Actually-" she tapped her chin, considering, turning slightly to check the third dress she'd considered for her date that evening in her favorite full length mirror. "I quite liked him upside down. And right side up. Even sideways for a moment. He was dashing. 'The hard way', I'd like to do _ him _ the hard way. And, Donna..."

Sadie rounded on her friend, fixing her with the sort of serious expression she got only when she was very seriously discussing serious matters of which neither parents, other friends, or pets should be made aware of. "He sees ghosts! He's an exorcist, in fact. Or," she scrunched her nose. "Not really an exorcist, but a hunter of monsters. And drinks. He hunts drinks almost as well as I do. "

Donna stared back at her for a long time, her eyes  dilated strangely despite  the perfectly pleasant lighting. And, for the first time Sadie could recall since grade school, those perfectly-seen-to brows furrowed alarmingly.

"You've been away a while Sadie-dear; the sabbaticals, that dreadful hospital your parents sent you to. We've barely had a week alone together in years. There have been a few things you've missed. I just didn't know how to tell you, you see, but. You dating a monster hunter might be dangerous, for me." Her friend hedged, fidgeting with a pearl bracelet hanging from her wrist enough to make curious Sadie realize just how still her friend had been all night, and recently. They'd both been so busy since she'd gotten back to town, they hadn't gotten to talk, to really talk, not like they used to, not even like in their letters.

"Dangerous  _how_ ?" the socialite inquired, taking a step closer before turning and finding one of the bottles of scotch hidden away in her closet.  She uncorked it with a deft flick of her thumb. Anything that made her best friend nervous made her  _thirsty._  Of course getting thirsty was mostly reflex these days. A reflex she was more than comfortable with.

Donna smiled sheepishly, shrugging as two delicately pointed fangs poked into her bottom lip. "Oh, well, you know. A professional, erm, disagreement?" the vampire lisped, smiling nervously, then pausing, forehead wrinkling with curiosity "Wait, what did you say this shot-of-delicious' name was again?"

"Frank, his name is Frank. Frank Doyle, " Sadie answered reverently, crossing the room, smoothing the dress that she'd apparently most definitely be wearing - and taking a seat on her bed. Along with a long shot from her bottle. Meeting the other woman's gaze firmly, not knowing just how many dozens those eyes and that voice had thralled. The space between them felt wide, wider than it had when she'd been away. "We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"

The prospect that they'd drifted apart was almost as sad as an empty glass, but Sadie didn't let it linger. She saw ghosts, she was some sort of medium, and Donna? Donna was a vampire. Her parents thought she was quite recovered, and they were determined to spend their waning years wandering the globe. Well away from her. She wasn't in the hospital anymore. There was a beautiful man in her life, a man whose hand she could still feel in hers. There really  _was_  plenty of time to catch up. And their worlds had never been closer, had they? Vampires and ghosts. Ghosts and vampires. Did vampires leave ghosts? Did they really turn to dust when they died?

Her joy returned along with her usual verve, erased of wariness as her chin lifted and she leaned back on her bed; propping herself with one hand and gripping the scotch loosely by the neck with the other. Her best friend was a vampire. Wasn't that  _delightful?_   She couldn't help but bounce a little where she sat. But serious questions first. 

"Can you still drink the good stuff, Donna, or do we need to pick you up a nice inebriated gentleman before my date? Because we  _cannot_ celebrate without a good drink,  I refuse. And you have  _so_  much to tell me, what are vampire parties like? Do they serve alcohol there? Where does one  _get_  a carafe of blood to keep for guests? Do you have a favorite flavor?  _Are_  there different flavors? Would I taste like chamomile? I hope I would not taste like chamomile. Or pie. All the good flavors come in booze. Oh but this is perfect.  It'll be like a coming out party all over again, or the after party, at least." Shooting the  startled vampire a sultry look, thinking back to younger days, Sadie grinned as she took another drink. "But I suppose you'd be doing a different  _sort_  of eating now, wouldn't you?"

 

***

  
Hours later, and at least two out of three sheets to the wind, Sadie smiled as her date arrived in an obviously new and not-quite-fashionable suit. But pinstripes suited him. They suited him very well indeed. Though that tie really would look prettier tied around his wrists. 

Oh dear.

If she had a collar to loosen, she'd be unbuttoning the dratted thing,

_"Frank,"_  she breathed,  smile widening at the flustered frown on his face, the ruddiness to his cheeks, his perfectly combed mustache but more hastily combed hair. The darling had been running late, and then, apparently, quite literally running.

Without even half a mind for propriety, she rose up from her table, pushing back her chair and waving him over as the other patrons stared. Her new man blished as he saw, and made his way over. Oh but didn't he move delightfully, like an awkward mess in a suit, but like those military types in the way he brushed past people without touching,  without letting anyone be directly at his back. He sort of lumbered, despite not quite having the  height for it.

She watched him like a cat watched a large, particularly scrumptious looking mouse. A mouse that would most definitely go down smooth with a vodka martini, maybe a few olives. No. They distracted from the martini part of the martini. Maybe cherries. No, also a distraction. But still yummy.

"Oh you look marvelous," she greeted him cheerily, kissing his cheek. Well. Mostly his cheek. Well. Partly his cheeks. His lips, and the bit of mustache she caught, tasted like gin. She sighed dreamily, hands moving down to catch his, he was perfect. "But I have a request, before we get to our date. You mustn't go fighting after any vampires, unless they come after you first, is that fair? This is  _quite_  important to me. I will tell you why later, but I _would_ like your word, darling.  "

He watched her for a second, and the moment hung between them. Both of them equally fervent, Frank still nervous, looking quite thoroughly as if he felt out of place. Which she was sure he did, she realized belatedly. But then his eyes twinkled, his mustache twitched, and he answered her with a lopsided smile that simply sang.

"Vampires?  _ What _  vampires? I would nary hunt one of those fanged creatures-" he spoke boisterously, but not too loudly, as they took their seats. Parting hands with her reluctantly, only for them to clasp one hand each across the small table once they were comfortable.  He spoke with the same bombast she remembered, that she enjoyed.  "-than I would pour whiskey down the drain! Did you know, they subsist almost entirely on those who've had just enough to drink, but are not smart enough to stay in a  _ bar _  where they belong? They're removing the competition! More for us, I say. Speaking of more and liquor in the same sentence..."

"The only way I like to hear them," Sadie agreed, flagging down one of the waitstaff. "I'd like two martinis, one gin, one vodka, no olives, and- " she glanced at her date curiously, head tilted slightly. "-for you, darling?"


	3. Three

 "Oh just pull over, Frankenstein. I do not expect we are  equipped for a chase. Or that driving is really your specialty after all. If it came to that I might just have to sit in your lap and take over," Sadie observed kindly, and Frank agreed with her. Heartily. Especially about the lap part. And her being in charge. She could do all the driving, none of this teaching him to drive as a compliment to their dinner. Not cars, at least. Definitely not cars. That's what  _taxis_  were for. The subway.  _Legs_ , even! If one was desperate.

Pulling over was almost as easy as taking off had been, Frank realized with relief. Or, well, whatever it was called when one was not driving and proceeded to begin doing so. And mostly avoiding the other vehicles on the road, even. He'd done a very good job of that. Missing 8 out of 10 was positively expert.  He turned onto the sidewalk and stopped the car at angle to the road, more jauntily, and much more fashionably than the other cars he'd seen.

Sadie was still giggling as the thick-browed, impressively shouldered, and entirely in need of at least six or seven drinks, policeman strode towards them. Frank cranked the window down with only minor difficulty, growing somewhat nervous as the man drew closer. He did not trust keepers of the peace, law men, or any iteration of the above. No. No he did not want to be pulled over. This was a bad plan. A very bad plan. That officer looked a lot like he was prowling, more than striding, though he couldn't put his finger on why exactly that was. 

Resting his left arm on the sill and frowning, Frank tapped on the go-pedal several times. Nothing happened. He stomped at it. Sadie chortled, and proceeded to drink more of the bottle they'd brought with them. Or one of the bottles, had they finished the others already? The restaurant had had so few for an establishment that was supposed to serve hundreds. Running out would be a tragedy. He kicked the go-thingy. The car did not respond. It remained recalcitrantly, traitorously, still.

Staring at it suspiciously, wondering if bushy-eyed and hairy there had cast a hex or something on the contraption, he started to flex his fingers, reaching for the chalk in his coat pocket. It was the good stuff, too, expensive. Some of the last from his old-and-better-days kit. He'd planned to show his lady a few things, especially given just how gifted she'd shown herself to be.

It was really quite remarkable something extraordinarily bad hadn't happened to her, yet, actually. Without any training. But then, there was a lot remarkable about her. If by a lot, one could mean absolutely everything, and the way she smiled. He glanced at her fondly at the thought, only to find she was staring at something else. Somebody else. Frank straightened in his seat, shifting his arm resting on the car door and noticing how the man's eyes went to it immediately. Went to his wrist. The man's nostrils flared.

"I'll need to see your license, Sir. I"m Officer-"

Frank squinted at him, leaning forward, and pressed his hand just a little closer; non threateningly so. It was the sleeve that had his nail in it. The silver nail. The officer took a step back. Frank's frown transformed quite rapidly into a sly grin as he shook a celebratory finger .

"You're a  _werewolf!_ "

The police offer blinked, bristled, sputtered. It was all quite impressive, but Frank was too busy turning to Sadie. "He's a werewolf! We just got pulled over by a  _werewolf."_

"I am no such-" the wolf in blue attempted to protest, as Frank slunk back from the man, leaning in the opposite direction.

"Oh good for him! He was chasing the car, and then he  _caught_  the car! Oh but no, is that terribly  rude  of me? I did not mean it to be so, you have caught us fair and square, Mister Werewolf, and you can give us your handcuffs now," Sadie exclaimed, pouted, and solemnly proclaimed in turn, presenting her wrists in demonstration. Then her eyes went wide, as she pointed at him with the liquor bottle. "Wait just one moment Mister Police  _Man_ , is your name David? What is your last name? Are you Donna's-David-Werewolf-on-the-police-force?"

"Wh-yes.  I'm David, wait, how do you know Donna?" he asked incredulously, before shifting his gaze back to the drunken ex-exorcist. "How do you know werewolves? And-"

"I believe he said Officer, dear, and I'm Frank, Frank Doyle. Yes  _that_  Frank Doyle. I know lots of things, I _read_ ," Frank explained to him with an impatient shrug, taking the opportunity to  slip the bottle from Sadie's hand and sipping from it as he smiled at her.

She continued to beam, at both himself and David. Which really wasn't so bad, the cop was sort of cute, in a burly way. He wouldn't mind making the big wolf howl - maybe Sadie liked that sort of thing too? He hadn't missed her interest in the handcuffs. He turned to eye the other man speculatively, still leaned over in his seat towards his love.

"Oh David Officer, splendid! How suitable," she clapped, and the werewolf sighed. Her enthusiasm did not, however, dim. "I'm Sadie, Donna's Sadie.  Well, now I'm really more of Frank's Sadie. But you've only just met Frank. I would dearly like you not to arrest us. Unless its the  _fun_  sort of arresting that leads us back to Donna's place. Oh darling- " the monster hunter in love was graced with her undivided attention, and a furrowed brow of concern. "Knowing Donna I'm sure we'd have a great deal of fun. Unless this is all a bit too fast for you?"

David, who's name was really most likely _not_ Officer, even if the thought made Frank snicker, stared at them both with the inscrutable face of someone cursed with sobriety. And then he finally managed to get a word in edgewise, this time giving the mustachioed man in the front seat a glare that kept him quiet and considering all sorts of interesting possibilities to go along with Sadie's suggestions.

"Being around you two is gonna make me smoke again, I just know it. You, get in her lap, or  _something._  I'm driving you both home," David ordered gruffly, turning back towards his own car and shouting to someone who was either a demon or his partner person. Possibly both. "Do you remember your address?"

Frank didn't need much encouragement to shift into the lady's lap, though his current state made the movement feel a great deal better than movement was generally supposed to. Sadie shifted, shaking her head vigorously to the officer's question and resting her palm on said state quite happily, smirking at Frank when he uttered a small sound of aroused distress.

"I do, if you don't mind spending the night, Sadistic?" Frank asked, giving the man his address under his breath, with a little bit more of a moan to his words than he'd intended.

"Try and stop me, love. I have some unfinished business," she purred, guiding the bottle still in his hand to her lips, before pressing it securely between both of their legs. "And I  have something particular in mind, tonight, with which to chase  _my_  liquor."

As their very own new wolf-friend huffed and puffed and got in the car, they were mostly quiet. And almost still. At least, until they realized how warm he was. Very. Very was the answer.

The pair leaned against David in unison, Sadie's hand unmoving from its place in Frank's lap. Frank's own balancing them precariously with a scandalous grip on their driver's thigh and a loving grasp of Sadie's free one, respectively. They proceeded to mewl, whisper sweet everythings (usually in the right ear), and occasionally, every-other-block, take a drink as he drove them home for the night. For the first night of many.


End file.
